


Simple luxuries

by imsfire



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff and Feels, Food, Gen, Jyn is bad at feelings, Post-Battle of Scarif, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, and a touch of angst but only a touch, and has no confidence in herself as anything except a fighter, minor mention of medical matters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 02:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11072304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: The tray is bloody heavy.  Jyn has begun staggering slightly by the time she enters the small ward where the remaining survivors from Scarif are all housed.





	Simple luxuries

Cassian and Bodhi have been in med-bay three days longer than her already.  They and the other seriously injured survivors are still having daily bacta immersions, still recovering from surgery, while she’s been discharged, her wounds and burns as good as they can get until time heals the rest.  Since there’s nothing to do, and everyone she speaks to seems to look at her with a side-eye and a tightening of the lips, Jyn hangs about the ward during visiting hours.  It’s a simple luxury, to be near them, the nearest she has to friends, in this strange new life.

In the evenings, banned from med-bay, she eats alone in the crowded mess hall, wolfing her servings of mycoprotein and instant carbs; then spends the time until lights-out reading.  She has more freedom than she’s known since she was a child, and no idea what to do with it. 

Cassian is the last of the survivors to be taken off the nil-by-mouth list.  She’s with him as they take the nutri-tubes out; shares in both his grin of pleasure and in Bodhi’s commiseration as they face their first meal together; vat-grown starch and protein gel.

“It’s better than the Empire gave us,” Bodhi says cheerfully.

His speech is a little awkward at the moment, the big new facial scar catching at his lip when he tries to open his mouth.  He manages a smile, ill-shaped but sincere.  Cassian grins ruefully back, propped in a traction-frame, semi-immobilised still.  His hand on the spoon is shaky but he feeds himself slowly and scrapes the bowl clean.

She wants to heal the universe for them.  It can’t be done.  She hates wanting, after so many years of never doing so.  Life was easier when all she allowed herself to think about was surviving to the end of the day.   She hates wanting, but loves it also, because wanting so much means life, means hope, means they are not all of them dead.  The rebellion, and their lives in it, go on.

So when Jyn gets to the mess that day to find a supply ship has got through and there’s been a delivery of fresh produce, she doesn’t hesitate.  No-one will know what Bodhi likes, but Cassian – surely someone will know him, know his preferences.  She gets to the front of the line and takes two large plates.  Addresses the startled servers at the hatch.

“Does anyone here know Cassian Andor?”

“Who? – Can you describe him?”  They look askance at her tray, at the two empty platters; raise eyebrows at one another.  Perhaps claiming to be collecting food for a friend is a common ploy.

“Um,” Jyn says.  _Damn it._   “He’s in Intelligence.  He’s a Captain.”  Blank faces greet this; rank insignia are hardly distinguishing marks, after all.  “Um, he’s about this tall, lean, dark hair, dark eyes, bearded…”

“Do you mean the fellow with the wonky nose?” asks one.  “Broody, sexy guy?”

“Oh, Captain Serious?  Does she mean Captain Serious?”

Jyn has to close her eyes for a moment at the thought of what Cassian would say if she told him his nickname in the kitchens. 

Maybe he knows.

She lets it go, because she must.  Turns brisk.  “Yeah, that’s probably him.  He’s still in med-bay and I wanted to take him something to eat.  Do you know if he’s got any favourites?”

Luckily it would seem Captain Serious is himself a bit of a favourite.  Which seems only right, when she thinks about it.  The two servers have switched from dubious to almost cheering her on.  They load her down with generous helpings of the choicest dishes; spicy beans, baked fish, fresh cornbread, braised bean curd with nuts, salad greens dressed with seasoned oil and citrus, slices of creamy blue cheese.  They even insist on giving her a whole fruit the size of a skull.  “Seedless melon, if he’s been on medical nutrition he could do with the vitamin boost.”

They wish her luck as she turns away with her tray uncomfortably laden.

Luck with what, she doesn’t ask.  They can’t mean with Cassian, after all.  That kind of luck has never come Jyn’s way; no reason it should now.

That doesn’t stop her carrying her load all the way back to the med-bay without sneaking so much as a leaf of lettuce.  It’s a bounty of unimaginable luxury to her, and she bears it like treasure.  The pride the kitchen staff took in explaining dishes to her suggests they feel the same.

The tray is bloody heavy.  Damnably, gall-blastingly heavy, heavy like carrying a baby bantha. 

Jyn has begun staggering slightly by the time she enters the small ward where the remaining survivors from Scarif are all housed.  There’s no sign of their evening meal yet; she’s in time.

“Cassian!  Bodhi!  I brought you something to eat.”

Cassian is sitting up unaided, which is a joy in itself, since it must mean the spinal implants have taken.  He raises his head from the data-pad he was reading, and his expression is another joy, his simple gladness at seeing her unlooked-for as sun in midwinter.

“Jyn!” he calls out.  “Look, I’m out of traction!” Then he sees what she’s carrying. “And it’s a real food day?” he says wonderingly.  “Jyn, did you carry all that?”

“And it’s kriffing heavy.”  She dumps the tray unceremoniously beside him on the bed.

All round the room heads are turning, at the smell of food and the sound of her excited voice.  There are four other men still bed-bound; Tonc and another burns case, and two more spinal injuries, both pilots.  Hungry eyes light up.  Cassian starts to reach for the food and stops, shamefaced.

It should be her who is ashamed; she’d thought only of the two of them.  It’s a late-come virtue to remember the others.  But they all did just as much as her friends.  And there is, now she stops to look at it, an awful lot of food on that tray.

“I think there’s enough for everyone,” she says.  “If we share it out.”

Bodhi shuffles off his bed.  “I’ll get some more plates from the nursing droid.  This looks incredible, Jyn.”

He’s beaming lopsidedly as he limps to the door.  When she looks back at Cassian he’s smiling too; smiling gently at her and picking up a slice of cornbread.

“Stay,” he says.  “You need to eat, too…  Sit with me?” 

She could get used to this.  Real food in real company; this is a luxury indeed.  Slowly and uncertainly she allows herself to smile back.  Sits down on the edge of the bed. 

Their hands touch, again, at last.

Maybe she does have some luck, after all.

 


End file.
